


Surviving Camp: Pinehurst

by Ndfarmer80



Series: Surviving Camp [2]
Category: Friday the 13th Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:13:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26189278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ndfarmer80/pseuds/Ndfarmer80
Summary: Stephanie goes to speak with Reggie the Reckless
Series: Surviving Camp [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886584





	Surviving Camp: Pinehurst

**Surviving Camp: Pinehurst**

  
  
  


**Wednesday, April 17th, 2019**

1:30pm

I’m on the road traveling to meet my next interview. Shortly after leaving Dr. Virginia Field, I received a call at the front desk of the hotel that I was staying in. The message was brief, albeit somewhat cryptic as well. I wasn’t very sure what to think as I listened to the pre-recorded voice on the other end of the line. It was obvious that the person leaving the message did not want me to know who was calling as they tried to disguise their voice. They were using some sort of voice augmentation device to make them sound almost robotic. Whomever it was, they knew that I was hunting down camp survivors and that I was getting them to tell me their stories. The voice warned me not to “dig up old bodies” and to let the “dead lie at rest”. If I didn’t stop, I would soon regret ever going on this “suicide mission”. I might soon find myself with my own story to tell about Camp Blood and Jason Voorhees. 

“I’m only telling you what I know and what I can promise will happen if you get too close. Stay away from Camp Crystal Lake. If you value your life and the lives of those that love you, don’t go there...Ever…” 

The message ended abruptly. I stared at the phone a while, wondering who in their right mind would think to call me at the hotel that I was staying, and furthermore, how did they know? At first, I thought that it was some sort of prank that one of my friends back on campus was pulling just to freak me out. Then I realized there was no way any of them could have known that I was going to stop off at this hotel much less which interviews I would be collecting and which order. It was all by coincidence that I happened to stop off at a Travelodge while en route to Baltimore Maryland to meet up with Reginald Winters, another Crystal Lake survivor. 

Reggie was only twelve years old when he went up against Jason while visiting with his grandfather at his job where he worked as a cook for Pinehurst Youth Development Center. It was a rehabilitation retreat located several miles down the channel on Crystal Lake. The group home held several residents within it that included Reggie, his grandfather George Winter, the center’s director Dr. Matthew Letter, his assistant Pam Roberts, and several patients all being treated for various behavioral problems. Reggie, better known around town as Reggie the Reckless or Reckless Reggie, was a staple about the center providing many of the residents a smiling face to go along with the playful pranks he often pulled on them. He was lively and highly perceptive, able to know certain things about people without actually knowing much about them save their name and their face. It was said that he could peg a person within a few minutes of meeting them, giving both Dr. Letter and Pam insight to each of their patients' moments after their arrival. Reggie, in a way, was used as a kind of personality gauge to find out which patients could handle being roomed together and which patients would be better off sleeping alone. Although Reggie was well aware that he was being used in this manner, he did not seem to mind it. To the opposite, he took on the job with pride and offered his services even when it was clear that it was unnecessary. He would state plainly as he sauntered out of the room that they were going to need him at some point and when they did, he would consider helping them.

Out of all the survivors from Crystal Lake, I felt that Reggie was by far one of the most tragic having lost both his older brother and his grandfather to the killer. Both George and Reggie’s brother Damon (aka Demon) were murdered not because they had anything to do with the reasons why the killings began in the first place, but because they were nearby once the murders began. Reggie consequently was also attacked mostly because he was there and was trying to help the others escape if he could. Because he fought back, he became a target for the Jason that attacked them. Had he not done anything, had he only run away, he might have lived and not experienced any of the horrors that he witnessed. Of course, many also thought since Reggie did not actually fight the real Jason, he might have still fallen victim running about the woods alone in the dark. He could have stumbled inadvertently onto the old campgrounds and met his fate at the hands of the real Jason still thought to roam the thick woods surrounding the lake. Instead, Reggie, with the help of Pam Roberts and patient Tommy Jarvis, defeated the man who presented himself as Jason Voorhees, but later was revealed to be Roy Burns, a paramedic who exacted blood vengeance for the death of his son.

For the second time, a parent responded to the loss of their child by turning to murder as a means to avenge their loved one. Like Pamela, Roy Burns was a recluse of sorts, not really connecting to anyone or allowing others to get very close to him. No one even knew that he had a son, much less that his son was living at the rehab center under the care of Dr. Letter. Roy was a loner according to his fellow coworkers at Wessex Memorial. It was not known whether he was married, divorced, or even where he might have grown up. What was known was that he was difficult to work with. The only person that seemed to be able to bear Roy’s frigid demeanor was his partner Duke Johnson, a wisecracking, insensitive jerk that nobody liked. It was only fitting to pair the two together in hopes of saving others from having to work with them. Maybe it was by sheer luck that Roy and Duke were called out to Pinehurst after the tragic accident occurred involving two of the center’s residents. Had anyone known that the boy that was slaughtered was Roy’s son, they might not have allowed him to respond to the call, much less require him to handle the mutilated corpse. Certainly, Duke knew nothing about it as he went about cleaning up the body and making his usual sardonic quips. Maybe he would have acted with a bit more empathy had he known...Or perhaps nothing would have changed at all. Regardless, Roy used the death of his son as a reason to don the mask and machete and took to the forest to enact his revenge.

Even though Reggie did not actually go against the Jason of legend, he still faced a formidable adversary that came in the guise of Jason Voorhees. Roy could have completed the murders without putting on a mask, but he chose to use the myth as a means to pin all the murders on someone that the community already suspected of being behind the murders. Roy completely believed that he could kill everyone at Pinehurst and get away with it because who would suspect the bereaved paramedic that had to collect his own murdered son to be the psychotic mass killer? No one suspected Pamela of her murders even when she so clearly promised that she would make them all pay for what they did to her boy. They ignored Pamela’s warnings, and for that, many died. There is a difference between Pamela and Roy. Although they both reacted extremely to the deaths of their children, Pamela’s motives were not done out of hatred, not fully. She did not kill because of the death of her child, but as a means to prevent others from falling victim to the dangers of the camp itself. She did not trust that the camp could or would try and prevent other children from having accidents like what happened to her boy Jason. Therefore, she did the most that she could think to do to keep the camp from reopening.

Roy killed because of rage, pure and simple. 

He left his son in the care of the center and wound up having to bury him because one of the patients there could not control himself. His son was not being watched or protected and was murdered in cold blood by a man that should not have been in possession of a deadly weapon like an ax in the first place. Victor Fadden, according to court records, was a recovering drug addict and was prone to fits of violence when agitated. He had already been expelled from several hospitals prior to arriving at Pinehurst. He was undergoing therapy for anger management when he murdered Joseph (Joey) Burns. He was given the task of chopping wood to help him burn off his heated feelings and give him something physical to do to focus his energies towards. It is not known why Victor suddenly turned his rage towards Joey, or what ultimately caused him to snap. After the incident, Victor was taken away from the center in the back of a police cruiser looking calmer than he had ever appeared his entire time at Pinehurst. Perhaps he needed to kill in order to quiet the demon that lived deep within him. Maybe it was Joey’s spilled blood that finally quenched the thirst that kept him agitated so long. No one knows what ultimately became of Victor Fadden, only that he spent the rest of his life locked away in a high-security federal prison never to see the light of day again.

Reggie saw none of that, and as a twelve-year-old boy growing up around a bunch of lunatics, I would imagine had he seen it, he would not have been affected much considering what he ended up experiencing. I do wonder, did Reggie know that Victor was capable of murder? Did he suspect in his uncanny way that Victor might one day flip out and endanger them, and if so, did he warn Pam and Dr. Letter about allowing Victor to chop wood to get out his anger? Victor was one of the only residents at the center allowed to handle any of the heavy equipment and machinery at the facility. At any given moment, he was either behind the wheel of very sophisticated farming equipment or handling dangerous tools that could cause injury to someone if used for purposes other than what they were created for. If Roy had not become Jason, it would not have been a far reach to believe Victor Fadden could become the masked killer instead. He had all the hallmarks of a killer, in particular a killer like Jason. The difference between Victor and Roy was that Victor did not need a mask to hide from what he had become. He had no intention of getting away with it. Like Jason, he killed because he was compelled to. Once it was finished, he quieted back down, satisfied that he had done the work he was commissioned to do by an unseen force leading him. 

Stephanie Hewitt...

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Thursday, April 18th, 2019**

Notre Dame Cathedral had burned over the weekend. The news of its engulfing fires made it to my news feed and to my awareness. I had not really taken notice of World News, but this did not escape my knowledge. I watched the broadcast as reporters showed pictures of the old church burning and the efforts of the French firefighters putting out the flames. I sat in my hotel room wondering about the effects this event would have on the world, or if anyone even cared about it at all. There was so much else going on about the world that the burning of an ancient church seemed irrelevant no matter how iconic it was. It brought me back to the events that became the legend of Camp Blood and how irrelevant it all became after years had passed with hardly anything occurring until…

The legend took on a life of its own and became more than what the truth of the story was. Two camp counselors became many. One distraught mother became an unstoppable and unkillable monster. The shadows that always seemed to haunt the darkest parts of the woods became the ghosts of dead counselors forever trapped on the blood-soaked grounds that were the original camp. Anyone that lived near or around Camp Crystal Lake knew about the legend of Jason Voorhees. They practically grew up with knowing the tale right along with reciting the tragedy of the Three Little Pigs. I was beginning to wonder, especially after speaking with Dr. Field, Ginny, if there ever was a separation between what was real and what was the myth about the camp and about Jason. Or had the two become so intertwined with one another, that it would be impossible to know without first experiencing the horror first hand. If so, would anyone ever tell the truth, or would they also be coerced into continuing the myth?

I stayed at another motel just outside of Baltimore where Reginald “Reggie” Winters lived. After a brief correspondence via email and text message, Reggie agreed to meet with me at one of his delivery sites. 

“It’s one of my last stops for the day, so I should have plenty of time to meet up with you so that we can talk,” Reggie said when we spoke over the phone. 

“I greatly appreciate this,” I said. “Whatever information you can give me will be useful in my research.”

“What exactly are you researching again?” asked Reggie. 

“I’m collecting stories from the survivors of Camp Blood. I hope to publish your accounts of what happened there and possibly derive some kind of understanding about what happened and give some measure of reality amid the myths about the area.”

“You’re writing about Camp Blood?” Reggie seemed unable to process what it was that I was doing. I could hear a hint of doubt in his tone as he spoke. 

“Yeah. Kinda funny, I know, but I’ve become very fascinated with the tales. I want to document them for others to possibly read and understand.”

There was a long silence on the other end. Then there was a very loud sigh. Nothing more was spoken. 

“Reggie? Are you still there? Reggie?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, sounding very tired all of a sudden. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“You don’t mind, do you? Giving me your testimony about your experience?”

There was a sound of hesitation before Reggie answered reluctantly. 

“I don’t mind it,” he began. “I just don’t really know much about what it is that you are looking for. I never went to Camp Blood, nor did I meet and survive Jason. Me and my friends were all attacked by Roy Burns dressed up to look like Jason Voorhees. I don’t know if my story would fit with any of the ones from other people that actually fought Jason and won. The man that murdered my friends and family was just that...a man. He wasn’t a ghost. He didn’t possess superpowers or magically murder people. The man that I fought was an imposter.”

“I understand that, but that doesn’t mean that your experience at the camp would be any different than anyone else’s except that the killer was identified conclusively to be Roy Burns. I think you have more to tell me than you think that you do. How about we set up a meeting tomorrow and we can discuss your experience.”

I was not about to allow Reggie to slip from my grasp just because he did not fight the real Jason Voorhees. For all that I knew, none of the survivors fought the real Jason, but someone so compelled to further the legend that they found a way to look like him so that their deeds could be attributed to the dead little boy suddenly grown up. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


**Friday, April 18th, 2019**

12:15pm

Reggie shook my hand quickly. His smile was infectious, warm, inviting, and not at all pretentious. I was instantly put at ease sitting down with him. There was something about the way he regarded me, like he already knew me very well, that made me comfortable. I could not stop myself from smiling back. 

“It’s nice to put a face with the voice,” he said with his famous broad grin. “Not a bad looking face too if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“Heavens no, thank you.”

We were at a small diner/truck stop just off from the freeway. Reggie was an independent truck driver hauling various goods in a traditional dry van trailer. Even though he was now in his late forties and greying a little at the sides of his temples, he still maintained a kind of boyish charm accented by his wide smile. His dark eyes were soulful and full of joy, something that seemed absent from the last few interviews I went on. He was dressed in a faded dark green t-shirt, well-worn jeans, a Boston Celtics ball cap, and Adidas sneakers. He was quite attractive even with his expressive features and toothy smile. I noticed his hand was missing a ring. He noticed that I was aware of his hands and pulled them back to himself somewhat possessively. 

“It’s a curse, you know,” he said, almost musing about it. “It’s plagued just about every male Winter ever born. It’s like the old saying goes, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him wear that saddle to save his life, you know what I’m saying?” 

Reggie’s laugh was also quite infectious. 

The waitress taking care of our table came around with a cup of black coffee for Reggie and an iced tea for me. He cupped his hand around the mug and thanked the woman, trading familiar smiles with her. She patted his shoulder and assured him she would return with his usual. 

“Come here a lot?”

“Maybe once or twice a month. Not much. But seeing as how I’m probably the only black person they see around here on the regular, it doesn’t surprise me that they know my face, even if they don’t quite know my name.”

“That’s gotta be comforting. To have a place to come back to each time you are out on the road. Kind of like coming home without actually being at home.”

Reggie nodded. “Yeah, something like that. I’m sort of a vagrant I guess. I haven't really settled down at any one place. I’m always on the move.”

“Kind of like your brother was.”

For the first time, I think in a while, the smile that Reggie always carried around with him, faded slightly. He pushed the smile back up in a quick recovery, but I had already seen it slip. My words had hit a nerve deep within and it was clear that he had never quite healed from that night, nor had he forgotten it. 

“I’m sorry.”

Reggie held up a hand. “No, no. It’s about time I let all this...this stuff in me out. I’ve kept it bottled up for way too long. It’s about time I talk about it now.”

“You were interviewed at the hospital the night you and Pam were rescued. You were spoken to by a Dr. Rhonda Moore?”

“Yeah. I remember. She tried to get me to say that the man that I saw was not Jason, but some other man. The father of the Joey boy that got killed a few days earlier. Mr. Burns I think his name was.”

“Yes. Roy Burns. He became enraged when he discovered someone had murdered his son.”

“Enraged?” Reggie began to laugh a little, his eyes becoming even more expressive. “More like flipped the hell out! I mean, what would you call someone all of a sudden deciding to dress up like a deranged killer and start whacking people off one by one? I wouldn’t call him enraged. I’d call him psycho!”

The waitress came back to the table with a plate ladened with two grilled cheese sandwiches, heavily buttered, steak friends, and a full bottle of ketchup sauce. Reggie looked at his meal and rubbed his hands together gleefully. He smiled up at the waitress and thanked her. The waitress walked away, noticeably twisting her hips. I smirked a little at the small flirtation. Reggie shrugged his shoulders. 

“It’s the curse,” he said and grinned before shoving in a seasoned steak fry into his mouth. 

“You knew it wasn’t the real Jason Voorhees. So why did you tell Dr. Moore that it was?”

“Because it was,” said Reggie nonchalantly. “The man that killed all my friends and family was in body, Roy Burns, but in spirit, he was Jason.”

“In spirit? What do you mean in spirit? Like a ghost?”

“No, not a ghost,” Reggie shook his head. He finished chewing the bite of fry in his mouth before taking a long swig of his coffee to wash it down. “No, what I mean is, Roy Burns used the spirit of Jason to give him the power to do all those killings. He took on the spirit of Jason. That’s how he was able to do all the things that he did.”

“He was possessed?”

“Roy was big and strong by himself, but once he put on that mask and jumpsuit...He became a whole other animal entirely.” 

Reggie took a bite of his sandwich and chewed the cheese and bread in nearly inflated cheeks. He shoved in another fry before pouring some ketchup over the rest of them, nearly covering them all. The waitress returned with a tall red cup of Coke and sat it sweating on the table. Without acknowledging her, Reggie grasped the cup and began drinking the soda quickly. After a loud burp, he returned to his plate and began at his fries again. 

“Reggie,” I began slowly. “That night, in the house, you saw nearly everyone you knew slaughtered, including your grandfather. Did you know that your brother was dead too?”

Reggie nodded. “I found out later at the hospital. I was told he was killed on the shitter. What a way to go, huh?” Reggie shook his head. His expression crossed into semi-anger. “I mean, how disrespectful can you be to corner someone while they are on the toilet and ram steel rods through their body? It wasn’t enough that he sliced up his girl, but he could have at least waited until my brother got out the crapper to kill him. Probably knew that if he let Demon out, he wouldn’t be killed off so easily. My brother didn’t look like much, but he was a scrappy little cuss. He carried a switchblade you know. Said you used it to cut dudes up that fell out of line. I’m sure old Roy knew if he slipped up even once, he’d find his own neck wide open.”

Reggie swirled a fry in a pool of ketchup. He studied the fry as if seeing it as something else other than what it was. 

“You know the one thing that Demon said to me before I left him that night. He said if you lived as long as your big brother, you’d get things...Things like cool knives, gold rings, and bad ass babes to lie down in the back of your romper van. He always tried to take care of me, look after me. Even though he did a lot of shit that he shouldn’t have, he never steered me wrong. He taught me how to be a good man by showing me what not to do. Closest thing I had to a parent, outside of my granddaddy. Demon was like another dad to me, in a way. Certainly paid more attention to me than my own real dad ever did.”

Reggie snarled a little before shoving the ketchup soaked fry into his mouth. He chewed the fry as if chewing the memories of his brother’s death and the fact that his father was absent. He drank another large gulp and burped again. It was then that he seemed to take notice of me once more. His friendly smile returned as his eyes regarded me with renewed interest. 

“Hey, where are my manners? Are you hungry? I can have the lady bring you something. It’s on me, really. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Reggie was already waving over the waitress who was a bit too eager to come over to us. I started to object, but it was too late. Within seconds the waitress was beaming down at me with expectation, her pen and pad ready to take down my order. 

“Get my friend here a Reggie Special, would ya sweetheart?”

“No really,” I said quickly. “I’m not that hungry.”

The waitress looked at Reggie for help. 

“Nonsense. She hungry. I can see it in the way she was staring at my plate. Just get her a plate of fries then...and a refill on her tea...Mine too if you don’t mind.”

The waitress nodded, scribbling down the simple order and walked away from the table to retrieve a pitcher of sweet tea and to bring over a fresh new cup of soda for Reggie. 

“They have the best fries,” Reggie was saying as he ate another handful. “They are thick, you know, with genuine Idaho russet potatoes. You can tell by the soft brown of the potato skin. And the way they season the fries...I don’t know what all they put on them...A bunch of secret herbs and spices...Like Kentucky Fried Chicken. It’s amazing.”

“Reggie...You were there with Tommy Jarvis, weren’t you? He was the one that helped you escape Roy Burns in the barn.”

“Tommy Jarvis, Tommy Jarvis...Oh yeah! I remember him! The kid with all the Halloween masks. Yeah. I was there with him at Pinehurst, or rather he was at Pinehurst and I was just there visiting when he got there. Cool kid, even if he was a little on the nutty side of life.”

“The two of you became friends?”

Reggie grimaced a little. The waitress returned with refills and then promised to come back promptly with my order. 

“I don’t know if I would say we were friends. He was nice, quiet, never really said much. Had a mean cross hook though. I remember because he took out one of the kids in the dining room when we were all sitting down to breakfast. He had this look come over his eyes, kind of vacant like he wasn’t there anymore. Beat the ever-loving snot out of the kid. Everyone knew from that point on not to mess with him. He didn’t scare me, though, on account I don’t scare so easily. I mean, I’d been around kids like him before. They get triggered and act out. Sometimes they can calm themselves down like Tommy did. Sometimes they can’t and you wind up with a dead body with an ax buried in its back. I figured Tommy was just one of those kids that needed to be alone and not be bothered so much. I told Pam to let him room by himself. He didn’t need to be around all the rest of the kids. He was already messed up pretty bad.”

“What do you mean by messed up?”

“Oh come on, Steph. I’m sure you already know the full history of the legendary Tommy Jarvis. I’m sure you’ve read his file. It’s not like it’s a big secret. I mean, the story of Tommy Jarvis gets told around campfires more often that the story of Jason does. The two go hand in hand with one another.” Reggie did not hide his disbelief that I did not know much more than what he was telling me about Tommy Jarvis. He smiled again, finishing his cheese sandwich and moving on to drink the rest of his coffee. 

“Tommy Jarvis stayed in a cabin near Camp Crystal Lake. He and his sister Trish and their mother were all staying at the lake when Jason came calling. He had just gone toe to toe with Chris Higgins and he was a bit worse for wear when he met Tommy. It was not a wonder that they made quick work of him when he finally cornered him. It was said that Tommy went a little nuts afterward. He was never quite right after that night. His sister Trish knew it. Hell, even the dog knew that something inside of Tommy Jarvis broke the night he hacked old Jason to pieces. When I met him, there was a look in his eyes that told me straightway that he wasn’t right, nor was he ever going to be right. But it wasn’t his fault.” 

Reggie shoved another french fry into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. He shook his head, I suppose, thinking about Tommy Jarvis. He sighed. 

“I don’t guess any of us would have come out all the way sane if we had experienced the kind of shit that Tommy saw. He was about my age when I ran into Jason.”

“You mean Roy Burns,” I corrected. 

“Like I said,” Reggie looked at me with the most serious dark eyes that I had ever seen on a man. “Roy might have been the body and the face, but in here, it was Jason...All the way.” 

Reggie tapped the side of his head, indicating Roy’s mind was no longer his own. I nodded, understanding. 

“Have you heard about the other murders at Crystal Lake? The murders that were said to be committed by Jason directly, not an imposter?”

Reggie smiled his normal smile and leaned back in his seat. His plate was empty, save a few lingering fries too engorged in ketchup to be appetizing. He nodded in answer to my question. 

“Yeah, I heard about them. If you keep your ears to the road long enough, you hear a lot of things. I don’t know that I believe all of it, but I do know that a lot of kids died going around that place. That’s exactly why I don’t go anywhere near it.”

“Tommy returned there a few years after leaving Pinehurst. He was at Unger Hospital when he and a friend broke out of there and headed straight for Crystal Lake. The murders started again. The police blamed Tommy, but the sheriff’s daughter corroborated his story. She said that Jason was real and he attacked her and the counselors, as well as killed several police officers accompanying her father when they responded to her distress call. There are several kids as well that witnessed seeing him and gave testimonies both describing who and what they saw, as well as attesting to Tommy’s innocence.”

Reggie folded his arms over his chest and stared at me with pressed lips. The deep lines in his face seemed to become deeper as he studied me. The sunlight from the large windows of the cafe caught the silver in his black hair and the flecks of golden hue in his dark brown eyes. Although he still looked fairly young, much younger than his age, I could see in him another age far older than he was. It was in his eyes. They were the kind of eyes that saw way too much way too soon in life. Reggie had seen more dead bodies in his young life than anyone would ever see outside of being a doctor, law enforcer, or mortuary. It was sort of the same look that Ginny had, only she had learned to compartmentalize her experience and hide it away from herself. Reggie did not have this ability but had learned to live with it his entire life. Now he sat haunted by the ghosts of the night he lost his family and his friends at Pinehurst, and where he was forced to kill a man for the first time. 

“Whatever it was that Tommy fought, whether it was a real man pretending or it was the actual Jason, I still believe that the stories are real. I still believe regardless of who or what was going around the camp killing people, ultimately, it was Jason. Plain and simple. Hockey mask and all.”

“Do you think that Tommy became the killer? It is what authorities suggest occurred. They say Tommy so believed in Jason, that he eventually became him.”

Reggie shook his head. “Tommy was crazy, I completely believe that. But Tommy would not ever do the things that Jason did. He was never that kind of crazy.”

Reggie sat up and reached behind himself to retrieve his wallet. He pulled out a few bills and tossed them haphazardly onto the table. He then searched through his pants pocket and pulled out an ink pen with the words Wells Fargo Financial written in blue ink against white. He pulled over a paper napkin and scribbled on it a phone number. He then slid the napkin over to me.

“I tell you what. You call this number. Ask for Patricia Drayton.”

I studied the napkin a moment before looking back at Reggie with a questioning look. 

“That’s Tommy’s sister, Trish. She lives in Newport. She is a real estate agent. She might know more about Tommy and about what happened to him after Jason attacked them in their home. To my understanding, they fought the real Jason Voorhees and were the ones to finally put him in his grave. Now...whether or not Jason stayed in his grave is a matter of debate.”

“Would she know where to find her brother?”

“She might,” said Reggie. “I know she tried to get him help on several occasions. After he left Unger, though, I don’t know that they kept up with one another, or that she even speaks to him regularly….But, she is your best bet in finding him, or at the very least...know where to start looking next.”

I smiled at Reggie and was rewarded with his trademark grin. We stood together. I began collecting my things. Reggie cast a quick look towards the kitchen where our dutiful waitress was fast approaching noticing that we were about to leave. 

“Thanks for the meal. The fries were pretty good.”

“I told you so! They are the best.”

The waitress intercepted us before we could make it away from the table. 

“You guys want any drinks to go?” she asked, directing her question more towards Reggie than to me. 

“No thanks,” said Reggie. “I got a long haul ahead of me and I don’t wanna be stopping over at any truck stops to use their port-a-potties. Haven’t exactly had the best history with them.”

I suppressed a laugh as the waitress gave Reggie a curious look before thanking him for coming and quickly collecting the bills on the table. I watched her make her way back over to her cash register to till the money before returning my attention back to Reggie. I extended my hand.

“Thanks for your time, Reggie. It was great meeting you.”

“Likewise. “ Reggie shook my hand, grasping firmly, but not too firm as to crush my fingers. “It was nice having someone to talk to while sitting down to eat. You’d be amazed at home often I sit alone at these places.”

“Really?” I did not believe this for one moment. “You seem like you never met a stranger in your entire life.”

“Guess I must’ve picked that up from my grandaddy. He never met a stranger either. Everyone was always his friend...Everyone but Jason that is. Even if he did make friends with the bastard, I like to think that his death was merciful and quick.”

I nodded. 

Reggie drew in another breath before beginning to move away from me. 

“If I have any more questions, could I call you?” 

“Sure,” said Reggie. “However I can help out, I’d be delighted.”

“Great! Thanks for the talk...and the food.”

“Don’t worry about it. You were a fun date. How about, when you’re done writing your book, you look me up and we go out for some drinks and dancing? Eh? Sound good?”

I giggled, somewhat ashamed for blushing. 

“Maybe…”

Reggie began dancing a two-step maneuver that showed off his coordination and his confidence brilliantly. 

“I’m an excellent dancer,” he enticed. 

“Maybe…”

Reggie stopped dancing and smiled again. He shoved his hands in his jean pockets and started out the door. 

“Thank you, Reggie,” I called after him as he pushed the door to the diner open. 

He cast a quick grin back and waved.

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
